


i can wait forever if you say you'll be there too

by floralytic



Category: DCU (Comics), Robin (Comics), Superboy (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: Best Friends in Love, Brief character death, M/M, theres a little bit of angst, tim and kon slow dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 18:27:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21020264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floralytic/pseuds/floralytic
Summary: 5 times tim and kon danced together, and one time they didn't





	i can wait forever if you say you'll be there too

The first time they dance together, Tim is fourteen years old.

Kon is fidgeting endlessly, because he’s Kon, and it’s his first time dancing. It’s dusk, and the two of them are standing on the rooftop of the young justice HQ in their uniforms. The sky is streaked with pink and orange and the last rays of sunlight casts shadows over them.

“Stand straight, Kon,” Tim says exasperatedly for what feels like the hundredth time.

Kon somehow seems to slump more. “I’m trying.”

“Well, try harder then.”

When Kon asked him reluctantly to teach him how to dance for his school prom, Tim knew it wouldn’t be easy but he didn’t think it’d be this hard. He takes a deep breath, willing himself to stay calm.

“Okay, put your hand on my shoulder,” Tim instructs.

Kon pouts. “Why am I the girl?”

“Because I’m the one who knows how to dance and you don’t."

Kon sighs but lightly rests his hand on Tim’s shoulder. Tim puts an arm around Kon’s waist over his leather jacket and takes his other hand, lacing their gloved fingers together.

“Now take one step forward.”

Kon looks down at his feet, as if willing them to move telepathically.

“I might step on your foot,” he says finally.

“You probably will, but I have hard boots. Don’t worry.”

He tries to give his most encouraging smile because if there’s one thing he knows about Kon, it’s that he’s a fast learner when he wants to be.

Kon hesitantly moves a foot forward, and Tim moves his back.

“Okay, now move the other foot up. Good. And back again.”

They get a steady rhythm going, and Tim counts under his breath to help Kon. One, two three, and spin, one, two, three, and spin.

Kon grins up at him, eyes sparkling. “Hey, this is pretty easy, Rob.”

“You’re getting the hang of it,” Tim says. “Just make sure when you dance at school that you actually look at the girl’s face.”

Kon rolls his eyes. “Very funny.”

They dance in silence for a while, and Tim watches Kon as they spin. Light dances over the focused line of his brow and his dark hair. He's never noticed how open Kon's eyes are; like windows to everything that he is. In the light of the setting sun, they look more purple than blue, specks of violet sparkling at the edges.

Tim realizes that he’s staring when Kon waves a hand in front of his face.

“Earth to wonder boy,“ he says, "Wonder boy to earth."

“Oh, sorry. I got distracted.“

Kon grins. “Jee, I'm not _that_ handsome Rob.”

Tim wrinkles his nose. “Shut up.”

Kon laughs. He looks up at the sky and its pink glow highlights his features.

"The sky is kind of nice today," he says.

"Yeah," Tim says softly. "If I had my camera, I'd take a picture."

He freezes, wondering if Kon will make fun of him for liking photography like some of the boys at his school, but instead Kon just smiles.

"That'd be cool. I wish I had a paper or something, so I could draw it."

"Draw it?"

Kon nods, looking back up. "This guy in Hawaii taught me to paint one time. It was neat."

Tim tries to imagine Kon in Hawaii, sitting by the beach and painting. He thinks it'd be nice to sit with him.

"Do you want to see it better?" Kon asks, interrupting his thoughts.

Before Tim can ask Kon what he means, he starts floating off the ground. Tim yelps, grabbing onto him tight.

“Kon!”

“Relax, Rob. I’ve got you,” he laughs, and Tim feels his TTK wrapping protectively around him.

They follow the same rhythm as Kon slowly lifts them higher and higher, and Tim revels in the feeling of dancing on nothing. The sky is slowly darkening to lavender and stars have begun to peak out. Floating in the sky like this feels like being submerged in an entirely new world, and he wonders if this is what it's like for Kon every time he flies.

“Any other tips I should know?” Kon asks.

Tim's lips quirk. “Probably don’t start flying in the middle of a dance.”

“Why? I think the girls would dig it.”

Something clenches in Tim’s chest at the thought of Kon dancing with someone else, but he tries not to think about it. Instead, he brings Kon the tiniest bit closer and enjoys the feeling of holding him in his arms while he can.

\---

Tim is at a party, dressed in a dark suit. He’s standing in a bright hall with ornate chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and panelling on the walls. It’s too fancy to be a Wayne gala, he thinks. The dim chatter of guests meets his ears and he tries to identify a voice, someone he knows, but they blend together.

He’s starting to think that maybe he’s in the wrong hall when something catches his eye—a couple waltzing in the center of the room. The woman wears a white gown and has golden hair but her face is hidden from Tim’s view by the man’s back. They twirl around and the guests watch them, smiling and taking pictures. The man is facing him now, and suddenly Tim can see exactly who he is. His charming smile and the sparkle in his blue eyes are achingly familiar.

Tim feels a tap on his shoulder and turns.

“Having a good time?” Dick asks, cheerful as always.

“W-what is this?”

Dick frowns. “Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

“Dick, why are they dancing?” Tim asks, his heart pounding erratically in his chest.

“It’s a wedding. Of course Conner and Cassie are going to dance, they’re getting married.“

Tim feels sick to his stomach. _Married_. He looks at Kon again and can see the lovesick expression on his face.

_He doesn't love you,_ his mind says._ Of course he doesn't. How could you ever think he would want you back?_

Tim turns away from the scene in front of him and leaves the hall, breaking into a run. Faintly, he hears Dick's voice calling him but he ignores it. It’s only when he’s outside that he notices he’s crying.

He wakes up with a start.

Blinking blearily, he tries to get a hold of his breath. The red light of his alarm clock stands out in the darkness and he can make out the silhouette of a tree outside his bedroom window. _It was just a dream_, he thinks, _only a dream_. He rubs his face and realizes that his cheeks are wet.

Tim swallows and clenches his eyes tightly, willing the images away, but they remain as if imprinted on the back of his eyelids. He hates himself for being jealous of Cassie, hates that he can’t be happy for them, two of his best friends. It isn’t their fault that he wants something he knows he can never have.

Sighing, he pulls the covers over his head and tries to go back to sleep.

\---

It’s three in the morning at Titan’s Tower, and Tim is doing his usual perimeter check when he sees light flickering over the rec room walls. Usually, Tim is the only one up this late so he approaches the room quietly, holding out his staff. He finds Kon curled up in front of the television in his pyjamas, looking dishevelled.

“Kon?”

Kon starts and then relaxes when he sees Tim.

“Hi,” he says, his voice cracking a bit.

Tim assesses Kon carefully. There’s something about the dampness of Kon’s hair and the slight tremor in his hands that stands out. Anybody else probably wouldn’t have noticed it, but Tim does.

“Can I join you?” he asks. “I can’t really sleep.”

“Like you ever do,” Kon scoffs, but he makes room for Tim on the couch and hands him a remote controller.

The two of them play for a bit, eating chocolate that Kon took from Bart and Gar’s stash. They’re on their third game and Kon is about to win first place (this is one thing he’s always been better than Tim at) when Tim sends a blue shell, knocking him off course.

“Hey!”

Tim just smirks. He’s so close to the finish line, but just as he’s about to cross it Kon tackles him from behind. They land in a sprawling heap on the carpet, giggling.

“You jerk,” Tim gasps.

“I’m the jerk? You sent a blue shell!”

Tim laughs and pushes at Kon’s chest, but Kon only holds him tighter. Suddenly Tim realizes how close they are. He can feel Kon’s breath against his neck and their legs tangled together. It makes him feel...safe, and something else that he can't name. Kon’s fingers skate lightly over his side and Tim squirms.

Kon grins like he’s just won a prize. “I didn’t know you were ticklish!”

“I am _not_,“ Tim huffs.

“Oh yeah?”

The next thing Tim knows he’s being tickled until he can’t breathe. He tries to tell Kon to stop but all he can do is laugh hysterically.

“Kon—please!”

“I thought you weren’t ticklish,” Kon laughs, but he lets go and lies down next to Tim.

Tim rolls over to face him. Kon’s smiling breathlessly and his cheeks are pink like he’s just landed from a long flight. He looks so much better than he did earlier.

“I hate you,” Tim informs him.

“You kick when you’re being tickled.”

“Jerk. I’m not playing with you again.”

“I was getting tired of mario kart anyways. Wanna do something else?”

“Like what?”

Kon looks thoughtful for a moment. “We could watch Wendy.”

“We haven’t done that in a while,” Tim says softly.

“Yeah. I think I'm behind a few seasons.”

They sit in the dark watching the show, occasionally laughing at something on the screen or making jokes. It reminds Tim of nights spent in the young justice HQ when they’d stuff themselves with candy and talk all night about anything and everything. Simpler times, before Lex Luthor and his dad and the darkness that just seems to suffocate them at times.

Sometime during the night Tim glances at Kon and finds that he’s not paying attention to the show anymore. Instead, he’s looking at Tim.

“What? Do I have chocolate on my face?” he asks, swiping at his mouth.

Kon smiles but it looks sad. Not for the first time Tim wishes he could take the sadness away, maybe hold it instead.

“No, just. I was remembering…”

He doesn’t have to finish the sentence for Tim to get it. “Yeah, me too.”

Kon looks at the floor and shakes his head. “Everything was so much easier then.”

“I know. Sometimes I wish we could go back.”

“Do you remember when you taught me to dance that one time?” Kon asks abruptly.

Tim laughs. “I had bruises on my feet for like a week.”

Kon grins toothily and leans his head against the couch. “Dude. I wasn’t that bad.”

“You totally were,” Tim says.

“I’m probably a better dancer than you now.”

“Really? Want to show me, cloneboy?”

Kon stands in front of him and bows ridiculously, holding a hand out for him.

“May I have this dance, my lady?”

Tim laughs and takes Kon’s hand. Surprisingly, Kon still remembers how to position his arms. He places a hand on Tim’s shoulder.

“What happened to ‘why do I have to be the girl’?”

Kon shrugs. “We both know you’re the girl in this relationship. I just didn’t want you to feel bad.”

Tim sticks his tongue out and Kon giggles. They start moving across the carpet, feet barely making any sound. One, two, three, it’s like when he was teaching Kon to dance, except Kon’s movements are smoother now.

“Practicing somewhere?” Tim asks.

“With who? Smallville isn’t exactly party central.”

“I was thinking Krypto.”

“Whatever," Kon says.

He makes it a point to not look at his feet, and Tim can’t help but find it endearing. He smiles, pressing his cheek to Kon’s, and feels Kon shiver lightly under his hands.

“Cold?” Tim asks.

Kon nods, so Tim gently pulls him by the waist until they’re almost chest to chest. This close, it’s hard for Tim to think about anything other than Kon’s hand in his and the feeling of their bodies pressed together. He tries not to focus on the faint light flickering over Kon’s face, making him look...Tim can't find the right word, but he thinks beautiful comes close.

The dance ends and he’s about to pull away, when Kon tightens his grasp and dips him, their bodies arching against each other. Tim holds firmly onto Kon’s shoulders, but it’s okay because he knows Kon won’t let him fall. The glow of the television catches Kon’s eyes just right, and Tim can’t bring himself to look away.

Kon slowly leans him back up.

“Did I do better this time?” he asks softly.

Tim brushes his hands over Kon’s palms, fingers lingering as if memorizing every line. His eyes don’t leave Kon’s.

“No,” he says, finding it hard to speak. “Still the same.”

The second time, they dance to the Wendy the Werewolf Stalker theme song.

Neither of them mentions it again afterward.

\---

The stupid war happens, and Kon dies. It isn’t fair; he was just a kid, deserved to live, had so much left to do, but none of that matters. Tim has different dreams now, dreams that consist of broken bones and a limp body crushed underneath rubble. Sometimes Kon visits him in his dreams, and those are simultaneously worse and better.

Tim loses himself in grief and cloning experiments, desperately looking for a way to bring Kon back because he hasn’t…he never got to tell Kon the things that really mattered.

He can’t help but feel like this isn’t how it was supposed to end.

\---

They’re going out to a bar, one of those slow-paced ones without too many people. Cassie planned it, said that they hadn’t had time for just the four of them since—since everything. Kon is back, Bart is back, but Tim still feels like there’s something missing, like a puzzle piece that’s just a bit too clunky for its spot. He sits back on Kon’s bed and watches him fiddle with his tie.

“Is this okay?” Kon asks, looking at him in the mirror.

Kon’s wearing a light blue button up that stretches across his shoulders perfectly, and black slacks because Cassie had insisted on looking nice. Tim doesn’t know where Kon got the outfit—maybe from Clark. He tilts his head, assessing Kon teasingly, and smiles when his friend fidgets.

“Here,” Tim says, getting up and reaching for his tie. “You’d think tactile telekinesis would be useful for this sort of thing.”

Kon laughs and runs a hand through his hair, making the black curls stick up in different directions. It’s grown longer since he’s gotten back, Tim notices.

“My TTK is only for important things, Tim.”

“And painting your nails is so important.”

“It really is.”

Tim’s nimble fingers make quick work of the tie. He trains his eyes on Kon’s collar and tries not to meet his gaze (it’s not hard, seeing how Kon is a good deal taller than him). Just as he’s finishing, his hand brushes against the warm skin of Kon’s neck and its like…sparks form at the touch. He pauses, the tips of his fingers resting on Kon’s neck.

“Tim?” Kon’s voice sounds strained, and when Tim looks up his blue eyes are intense.

“Your hair’s wack,” Tim says, dragging his eyes to the floor and swallowing thickly. He reaches for the tin of hair gel.

“It’s fine like this,” Kon grumbles.

“If you want Cassie to kick your ass, be my guest.”

Kon sighs but leans in closer to him.

Tim rubs some gel over his palms and combs his fingers through Kon’s hair, this time making sure not to touch his skin. Kon's hair is soft and smells faintly of cinnamon. He tucks a stray curl behind Kon's ear and ignores the flush that he feels rising on his face.

Kon meets his eyes and smiles a bit. “Good enough for you, Rob?”

“I guess it’ll have to do." 

Bart pokes his head in the room. “Hey guys, you ready yet? Cassie’s in the car.”

“Yeah,” Tim says, removing his hands from Kon’s hair. “We’ll be out.”

The four of them drive to the bar, listening to songs and chatting about random things. When they get there, they’re greeted by music pulsing in the air and couples scattered around dancing.

“I’m going to get drinks!” Bart says. “Be back in a sec.”

Cassie shakes her head and ruffles Bart's hair before he runs off. "What would you three do without me?"

"Probably get to choose our own outfits," Kon says.

Tim scoffs. "In that case, you'd be wearing a Hawaiian shirt and shorts right now."

Cassie laughs. "He's right. Thanks to me they at least let you in here."

"I hate you guys," Kon says, but there’s exasperated fondness in his voice. "Come on, we came here to dance, not make fun of me."

He takes Cassie’s hand and moves towards the dance floor, grinning at Tim.

“You coming?” he asks.

“I’ll join you in a bit,” Tim answers, not exactly sure why he says it. “You guys go.”

Kon looks like he's about to say something but decides not to. The song is upbeat and Cassie swirls him around the dance floor, her skirt fanning out elegantly. Tim watches Kon smile up at the ceiling, the blue and pink lights highlighting the curve of his lips, and his heart aches.

He feels a tap on his shoulder, and turns to see Bart.

“Here,” he says, handing Tim a milkshake that Tim has no idea where he got from. "I got you vanilla 'cause i remember you liked it."

“Thanks, Bart.”

“No problem. I’m gonna go find Kon and Cassie.”

He zooms off, and Tim sits on the counter behind him, slurping his drink. He’s thinking that he might as well dance too instead of sulking around, when he sees Kon smile brightly at him through the crowd. He makes his way over to Tim and sits next to him. They watch Cassie and Bart dance for a while, their combined laughter floating through the room.

“What flavour did you get?” Tim asks, turning to Kon.

“Chocolate, obviously.”

“Wanna switch? I don’t feel like vanilla.”

“But you were always a vanilla guy.”

Tim raises a brow, teasing. “People change.”

Kon laughs. “Man, I have so much to catch up on since…” he seems to notice Tim’s stricken expression and falters.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s just hard, thinking about when you were all gone.”

“You can always talk to me about it,” Kon says, looking at him earnestly. “If you ever want to, I mean.”

Tim smiles hesitantly, and it feels good, like maybe they aren’t as irreparable as he thought.

“Yeah, I know.” He pauses, weighing words out on his tongue. “What did it feel like? Being dead.”

Kon stays quiet for a while. “I don’t know. Coming back was like waking up from a dream, except everything’s kind of…moved on without you.”

_Not me_, Tim thinks. He wishes he could do something; maybe hold Kon until the sad look in his eyes goes away.

“Why aren’t you dancing with them?”

“What is this, twenty questions?”

“Just asking,” Tim says, punching Kon’s shoulder.

Kon shrugs and looks at the floor. “I just. I guess I wanted to be here with you.”

“Oh,” Tim says, because he doesn’t know what else to say to that. His heart starts beating faster.

Kon finishes the last of his drink and tosses it in a trashcan. He glances at Tim, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Want to dance?”

Tim smiles and holds out a hand to Kon.

“After you, my lady.”

Kon leaps off the counter and takes Tim’s hand, pulling him out onto the dance floor. He wraps an arm around Tim’s waist, and Tim places his hand on Kon’s shoulder. They sway to the beat of the music, something slow, but Tim doesn’t know the song. He focuses on Kon’s eyes, how the blue fabric of his shirt brings out the specks of purple around his irises.

Tim loses his rhythm, nudging Kon’s toe by mistake.

Kon raises an eyebrow. “Should I be teaching you now?”

“Well, we don’t all have Krypto to practice with.”

Kon laughs, vibrant and _alive_, and Tim wishes he could bottle the sound to keep for all the rainy days. There was a long time when he thought that was all he needed, just to see Kon's grin or hold his hand one more time. The feel of Kon’s fingers between his is like a secret between them; everything unspoken.

“Do you know,” Tim says, “that your eyes look purple in some lights?”

Kon smiles, sweet and slow. “Is that so, wonder boy?”

_Wonder boy_. The word makes him feel like crying and laughing. He cups Kon's jaw gently and traces his cheekbone with a finger, feather light. Kon looks like he’s forgotten how to breath.

“Tim,” he whispers, and the dam breaks.

Suddenly it’s easy to lean in and press his lips to Kon’s. Kon's mouth is warm and soft and tastes like chocolate, and Tim sighs when Kon melts into the kiss, caressing his cheek. Everything around them seems to fade away until the only sound he can hear is the pounding of his own heart.

Finally, Tim pulls back to catch his breath. Kon smiles at him dazedly, eyes shinning.

“That was…”

“Yeah,” Tim breathes.

Kon tentatively raises his hand and tucks a lock of Tim’s hair back.

“Can I…” he whispers nervously, “Could we do it again?”

Tim laughs lightly and threads his fingers through Kon’s hair (he can barely believe he gets to do this) and pulls Kon close.

He kisses him again, and again, and again and again until his lips are numb. They’re both smiling so much that they can barely be called kisses, but Tim feels a golden warmth in his chest, and it’s like the puzzle piece has clicked into place.

\---

Tim’s eyes open sleepily, trying to get a bearing of his surroundings. He’s curled up on a couch—his couch, he realizes from the coffee stain under his arm, with a worn blanket wrapped around him. There’s a faint sound of music coming from somewhere in the apartment, and he can’t remember if he’d left it on or not. Sighing, he tugs the blanket around his shoulders and stumbles into the kitchen.

Kon is standing at the sink in pyjamas, humming to a song on the radio and peeling vegetables. Tim smiles and creeps up behind him, wrapping his arms around Kon’s waist. His boyfriend yelps and the potato in his hand goes flying, landing in the sink with a dull thud.

Tim laughs softly and rests his chin on Kon’s shoulder.

“Why are you peeling potatoes in my kitchen?”

“So you’d have a decent meal for once,” Kon says, turning in Tim’s arms until he’s facing him. The look in his eyes makes Tim’s stomach fill with butterflies. “Do you try to scare me on purpose?”

Tim smirks in response and nuzzles Kon's cheek, trailing soft kisses up to his jawline. Kon sighs happily and tilts his head back. That’s when Tim realizes what music is playing.

“Seriously, Kon? Enya?”

Kon laughs. “I actually kind of like it now.”

“Oh my god,” Tim groans.

“It’s your fault for introducing it to me in the first place!”

“Ugh…I’m not awake enough for this.”

“C’mon babe. I bet you sing this in the shower.”

Tim pulls back to glare at Kon. “I _do not_.” He tries to look stern but his frown melts when Kon gives him a warm kiss on the temple and lifts their joined hands, spinning him on the spot.

“Who can say why your heart sighs,” he sings, grinning.

“Kon!”

“As your love flies, only time.”

“I can’t believe we’re dancing to Enya.”

Kon pulls him closer and Tim shakes his head exasperatedly, wrapping his arms around Kon’s neck. Kon is actually a great singer (even if what he chooses to sing is questionable), and Tim will never admit it, but he loves listening to him.

“Why do I put up with you, Kon-el Kent?” he sighs.

“Because you can’t resist my sexiness?”

“More like –“

“Shhh, Robbie. Be nice.”

Tim wants to laugh but he can’t—it gets caught in his throat somewhere. It’s just so Kon, everything that he loves and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of this: the warm arms holding him, the breath against his cheek, the light in Kon’s eyes. Not in a million years.

He leans his forehead against Kon’s and closes his eyes, losing himself in the rhythm of their movements. The sound of rain pattering against the window blends with the tapping of their bare feet on the tiles. They spin and spin until the song ends and when he opens his eyes it feels like the world has stopped turning on its axis just for the two of them.

Tim turns his mouth to Kon’s ear.

“I love you,” he whispers. “It’s because I love you.”

“I know,” Kon says, and presses his face in Tim’s hair, rocking them slowly.

\---

Tim reaches out blindly to turn off his alarm clock, rubbing his eyes. He turns to the duvet-covered lump next to him and smiles at Kon’s sleeping form. Sunlight streams through their window, making his tanned skin glow.

Tim shakes his shoulder.

“Mmm, go away,” Kon slurs sleepily.

“Wake up, Kon,” Tim says, leaping on his stomach (he’s found it’s the only effective way to wake him up).

Kon lets out an ‘oof’ and looks at him grumpily.

“Did you forget what day it is?”

“I don’t have school today,” Kon mutters. “Do I?”

Tim hides a smile and kisses Kon’s cheek. “It’s Saturday, silly.”

“I told you,” Kon mumbles, closing his eyes again.

Tim laughs and strokes Kon’s hair, running his fingers through the tangled curls. He leans down to press kisses over Kon’s neck and face.

“Kon, it’s July fourteenth.”

Kon blinks up at Tim blearily. “July fourteenth…our wedding?”

“Yes, stupid,” he whispers against Kon’s lips, “We’re getting married today.”

Their wedding is at the Kent farm, with just close family and friends. Cassie, Bart, Cass, Steph and Kara decorate Martha Kent’s garden with a tent, flowers and fairy lights. Tim has to admit, the end result is pretty good.

It doesn’t really hit Tim the enormity of what’s happening until he sees Kon walking down the aisle with Ma. He didn’t get to see Kon before this, because the girls had insisted on getting them ready separately (something about bad luck to see the groom before the wedding). Tim’s breath catches in his throat as he watches his husband _(his husband)_ walk towards him. The sunlight illuminates Kon’s face and hair, making him look ethereal.

Kon steps next to him and takes his hands, mouthing ‘can you believe it?’. Tim squeezes Kon’s hands in response because he doesn't think he can speak right now. They make their vows but everything is a blur until the priest says, ‘you may now kiss the groom’.

Later, Tim will find out that Dick and Clark wouldn’t stop crying, that Steph dropped a drink all over Babs’ dress in her excitement, and that Bruce was dabbing suspiciously at his eyes, but all he can focus on now is Kon’s warm hands cupping his face, the feel of his mouth, and the happiness bubbling inside of him. Kon pulls back after a minute or an eternity, his nose brushing against Tim's.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” Tim whispers.

Kon blushes, hiding his face in Tim's neck, and he feels Kon smile against his skin.

When it’s time to dance, Tim and Kon lead, twirling in the middle of the lawn. They practiced for a few days before the wedding so Tim isn't worried about any blunders, but he still feels Kon's TTK making sure he doesn't step on his feet. He kisses Kon's temple and sighs.

“So how does it feel to be married, Mr. Drake-Kent?”

“Why does your last name come first?” Kon asks.

Tim smiles teasingly. “We both know you’re the girl in this relationship."

Kon shakes his head and gives him that look that means he's up to something. Before Tim can ask what he’s about to do, he starts floating off the ground. Tim laughs and grabs onto his shoulders, resting his toes on Kon’s shoes.

“You’re ridiculous,” he says.

“That’s why you married me, right?” Kon’s smile is brighter than the sun.

He hears Jason wolf-whistling and ignores it. He can’t really care what anyone thinks right now, not with Kon looking at him like this. They twirl in mid-air, the light breeze carding through their hair as they rise higher and higher.

“Do you remember the last time we did this?” Kon asks.

A reel of memories rolls in Tim’s mind: Kon holding him as they spin in the sky, Kon in his leather jacket teasing him endlessly, Kon’s face lit in anger, Kon carrying him and always, always catching him when he fell, Kon laughing at the stupidest things, Kon watching him when the whole world turned away, Kon always giving him a reason to smile.

“Yes,” he says. “I do.”

Kon laughs joyfully and Tim can’t help it, he leans forward to kiss Kon slow and soft, cradling his face. He wishes he could stay here forever—just the two of them floating in their own expanse of sky. _I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you_, he thinks.

\---

Every year, Martha Kent holds a dancing party at her house, inviting the Waynes, Kents, and a bunch of their friends from Smallville. It’s unbearably country, but Tim likes it because it’s the one of the few times when everyone he loves gets to be together and have a good time.

On the night of the party, the house is filled with guests. Tim steps out onto the patio and sees Cass twirling Stephanie, the two of them laughing at something. Clark and Bruce chat and snack on appetizers in the corner, Lois dances with Jon, and Dick holds a sleepy Damian as he sits with Roy. Kon isn’t anywhere to be seen, though.

Cass walks over to the buffet table to get a drink and Tim follows her.

“Hey Cass. Did you see Kon anywhere?”

Cass smiles and tilts her head toward the garden. It’s dark but Tim can make out a small figure in the distance. He thanks her and strolls down the small hill until he finds Kon lying on the grass.

“Hey,” Kon says softly. He glances back at the lights shining from the patio. “They’re probably dancing now.”

Tim hums, sitting next to him and looking up. The sky is an expanse of indigo with stars sparkling like diamonds caught in a cloth, and a cool breeze carries the scent of lilac from the Kents’ garden. It’s beautiful in a way Gotham could never hope to be.

Kon looks at him, his brow furrowed. “Don’t you want to dance?”

Tim lies down too, the slightly damp grass tickling his face. He rolls on his side to face Kon.

“I wanted to be out here with you.”

Kon smiles, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He reaches out a hand and gently traces the line of Tim’s cheekbone, down his arm, to his hand and laces their fingers together. Tim closes his eyes and nestles his head in the crook of Kon’s neck, where it somehow fits perfectly.

“Okay,” Kon whispers. “Okay.”


End file.
